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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085565">animals like me (don't talk anyway)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/randombubblegum/pseuds/randombubblegum'>randombubblegum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Waterparks (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(just a little), Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, wow second time using that tag in 3 fics rest in pieces</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:35:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/randombubblegum/pseuds/randombubblegum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Otto presses his mouth against Awsten's neck, it is not a kiss; it’s more like a flash of teeth from predator to prey. A threat, or a promise, or both.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Awsten Knight/Otto Wood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>animals like me (don't talk anyway)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>More Awtto fic! Eat up.</p><p>I saw <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/fdc4f3ccba1274b1a4ad8a97754b4b35/02a883d0a15f57be-df/s540x810/e2290489ed9247a1e2c71f1f189f156415a2504d.jpg">this picture</a>, after which <a>Sima</a> and I wrote essentially a chatfic that I then polished up and voilà, you get this. Quintessential fanfic for the modern era. What can I say.</p><p>Thank you to <a>Dee</a> and <a>Prince</a> for the betas!</p><p><span class="u">Note</span>: As a matter of course, I would archive-lock an explicit RPF fic like this one, but this is Waterparks and this fandom is a total nightmare, so I'm leaving it public. If you know anyone mentioned in this fic in real life, or by some unlucky accident are Awsten Knight, turn back. Go away. Forget that which you have seen. Begone from here.</p><p>Title from "The Calendar" by Panic! at the Disco.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Awsten doesn't even know how they ended up in this position. Truly, he does not. </p><p>He and Otto had been messing around in the bus lounge, which turned into goofy wrestling on the couch, the same way it had a million times before. Awsten had wrapped his legs around Otto’s waist, laughing and trying to get him into some approximation of a chokehold. Otto had ended up flipping him flat on his back, legs still around Otto’s hips as he held Awsten’s shoulders to the couch cushions. Maybe it was the look on Otto’s face. Maybe it was the way Awsten’s body had gone reflexively pliant under his hands. Either way, like a string snapping, <em>something</em>, some imperceptible and unspoken thing, had shifted in the air between them. Awsten had rocked his hips up before he thought about it or could stop himself. Otto had matched his movement. And now, not five minutes later, here he is, panting into Otto's neck and dizzyingly hard in his jeans, rolling his hips like his life depends on it.</p><p>Otto has Awsten pinned down with his body, arms caging him in, pressed together from chest to belly to hips. He’s got a strong, muscular thigh between Awsten's legs that Awsten is frantically rutting up against, dick aching where it's trapped against the seam of his jeans. It’s rough, almost chafing through the layers of thick fabric, but he can't stop; Otto's harsh breath in his ear is turning him on so hard he's halfway to senseless with it.</p><p>Awsten's rolling his hips up, feet planted for leverage, gasping out a ragged “<em>Otto</em>” before he realizes what he's doing and <em>oh</em>-- <em>Shit</em>. He feels blood rush to his face. That little slip-up has now, in the space of an instant, made this all a hundred times more real than any of his needy, incoherent noises before. He knows, objectively, that Otto's affected too, can feel how hard he is against Awsten’s leg. But even though Awsten's wrapped around him like some kind of…horny squid, Otto still seems stupidly put together as they grind against each other. It's not fair; Awsten's falling to pieces underneath him, gasping, and Otto still looks perfectly in control, even as they rut like animals.</p><p>Otto rocks his hips down, shoving his thigh into the crook of Awsten's legs hard enough to border on pain. It sets sparks off behind Awsten's eyes. He can't help the frantic whine that escapes him, can't help that it's Otto's name (quietly, because he knows he's already made this <em>A Thing</em> but he can't stop, can't think straight). When that gets Otto to force Awsten’s hips down again, he <em>definitely</em> can't help the way he lets his head loll back to bare his throat.</p><p>He feels raw, exposed; every part of his body is a nerve ending connected directly to the hot twist low in his belly. When Otto presses his mouth against Awsten's neck, it is not a kiss; it’s more like a flash of teeth from predator to prey. A threat, or a promise, or both. Awsten is helpless, pinned, and he knows it; the feeling sends a thrill up his spine.</p><p>When Otto's hot breath ghosts across his neck, thigh pressing hard and just right against him, he’s absolutely sure he's going to blow it in his jeans like a fucking high schooler.</p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut (even though he wants to commit every millisecond of this lucky aberration to memory, oh, fuel for a thousand furtive jerk-off sessions). The way their bodies move together feels dizzyingly good, the <em>painpleasurepain</em> threatening to overwhelm Awsten’s rational brain. It's primal, clumsy — no finesse to any of it but it's the hottest thing Awsten’s ever felt. His eyes fly open and he gasps, high and needy, when he feels Otto mouth at the sensitive skin under his jaw, nipping down his neck. Awsten swears, breathless, and tightens his legs around Otto's thigh. He realizes, half-mindless, that he's repeating Otto's name over and over, too far gone to care anymore. Clinging to Otto's shoulders, digging his fingers into the thick material of his hoodie, he chokes out a sound he hopes comes off as a warning. If Otto wants to back out, now's the time.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Otto, I’m close, I can’t,” he pants, borderline incoherent as his hips pop up, thighs clenched tight around Otto's own. Awsten feels obligated to warn him, but terrified at the thought of Otto stopping this.</p><p>Otto presses his mouth to the delicate skin behind his earlobe. Awsten shivers at the sensation.</p><p>“Then come,” Otto rumbles, less a suggestion than a command, and Awsten just about bites through his lip as he comes in his jeans, body rocking wildly against Otto, completely out of his control.</p><p>He knows he's groaning loudly because it's making his throat hurt, but he can't hear a thing over the ringing in his ears. He feels Otto's arms tighten around him, holding his torso down against the cushions even as his hips buck with it.</p><p>Awsten’s close to shaking out of his skin as Otto pins him in place, his heartbeat thundering in his ears as wave after wave of pleasure courses through him. He can feel his nails digging into Otto's shoulders but he's too out of his head to do anything about his white-knuckled grip. Even with Otto’s body on top of him, it feels like if he lets go, he might just float away.</p><p>Once he starts to come back to himself, he lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, trying to figure out which of his limbs have un-jellified yet. He meets Otto's eyes and fumbles to get a hand on his crotch, but Otto nudges his hand away, giving him a small, sheepish smile. "I'm good," he says, shrugging a shoulder, and Awsten finally catches a crack in his cool, unaffected facade as his cheeks redden. "I already..." he trails off, before loosening his grip on Awsten. Awsten instantly misses the press of his hands.</p><p>Awsten feels his own face get even hotter, if that’s possible. He finds himself wondering if Otto was more affected than he let on. He wishes he had noticed, wishes he could have watched Otto’s face.</p><p>Otto props himself up and moves back a bit. The space between their bodies is suddenly cold.</p><p>Awsten feels tender, raw, vulnerable. Frankly, he would really like Otto to keep holding him. He would <em>also</em> like Otto to kiss him, but that feels like a very dangerous thing to ask for. His pulse races as he scrambles to fill the charged silence.</p><p>“Um, so. So that, uh. Was...” --<em>christ,</em> he sounds like a fucking idiot-- “Was... that good? Um, for you. I mean, it was good for me,” --he wishes he could shut up, oh god, stop <em>talking</em>-- “So it. Um. You don't have to...” and he cannot for the life of him figure out how to ask Otto to put his arms around him again after they just <em>rubbed off on each other during a play fight</em>. His eyes flicker down to Otto's lips before he can stop them.</p><p>“Do we--” Awsten starts again before Otto leans down and presses their mouths together.</p><p>“--mmfh!” Awsten makes a truly embarrassing noise into the kiss, hands flying up to grip Otto’s shoulders. His heartbeat thunders in his ears. He lets his arms snake around Otto’s neck, cautious.</p><p>Otto moves their lips together slowly, slotting Awsten's bottom lip between his own, but holding it gently instead of biting. Awsten's breath comes hard and fast through his nose.</p><p>It's strange that the way their lips move together makes Awsten feel more exposed than their messy rutting had, but it does. He feels like he’s slipping up, showing too much; butterflied on the operating table, guts on display. He tightens his arms around Otto's neck, pushing himself closer and ignoring how sticky he feels when he shifts. Really, they should both put an end to this, clean themselves up, and lock the lounge door before anyone comes in and finds them in so incriminating a position. Somehow, Awsten finds that he doesn’t have it in him to care. He's trembling faintly, breath hitching, and every movement of Otto’s mouth on his own makes him feel like he’s about to start unravelling.</p><p>Otto nips at his bottom lip and Awsten's body shudders. Otto's arms come around him, palms pressed flat against his back, as he slowly tilts Awsten back into the cushions and settles his weight onto his torso. Awsten's breathing picks up when he feels the press and pressure of Otto's body holding him down again, somehow both grounding and exhilarating at the same time.</p><p>When Otto sucks on his lip, running his tongue along the seam, Awsten shivers and opens up for him. </p><p>The wet slide of their tongues together is overwhelming, forcing a small noise from Awsten as he struggles to breathe through his nose. When Otto sucks on his tongue, he groans as his oversensitive dick gives a heroic twinge. Awsten wonders, slightly hysterically, if he can even physically get hard again. Kissing Otto like this might just get him there anyway, refractory period be damned.</p><p>Awsten's not saying he's ever pictured having quick and dirty sex with Otto on the bus couch. Because he hasn’t. But if he <em>had</em>, hypothetically, of course, he'd never have imagined Otto having such effortless control over him, being so domineering. His mind fuzzes like television static as his world narrows to the feeling of Otto pressing him into the cushions, the sharp prick of his teeth digging into Awsten's lip.</p><p>Otto licking into his mouth sends another jolt of something through him, and his thighs splay open, inviting Otto to get closer, something that isn’t technically possible but that Awsten wants anyway. He feels strung out and peaky, but at the same time he wants more, wants anything and everything Otto's willing to give him. "Please," he rasps out, as they break for air, not even sure what he's asking for. But he gets the sense Otto knows because when their lips meet again, there's an insistentence there that wasn't before.</p><p>The kiss gets messier, hotter, Otto going at him with intent now, biting at his already kiss-swollen lips and running his tongue along his teeth. When Awsten feels a hand cup him through his jeans he yelps and <em>spasms</em>, body trying to shy away from the too-soon sensation at the same time as it tries to press into Otto's touch.</p><p>“You think you can? Again?” Otto asks against his lips, rubbing his palm down in an experimental circle as Awsten's dick perks up weakly against his hand.</p><p>Awsten breathes a long, muffled stream of curses that would make a sailor blush. None of them sound like a no. He nods, eyes squeezed shut.</p><p>He thinks he feels Otto grin before he dives back in, kissing him slick and dirty while he works Awsten's zipper open. Awsten's thighs instinctively twitch closed when Otto gets a (wet, so wet, holy<em> shit</em> he came so hard) hand around him and strokes just once. Otto only elbows them back apart.</p><p>“Keep them open. For me,” Otto pulls back long enough to say, gravelly and rough.</p><p>When Otto speaks to him in that tone of voice, Awsten doesn't think there's anything he wouldn't do for him. It nearly hurts, but Awsten doesn't want it to stop, doesn't want this to end. He wants to prove to Otto that he can do anything he asks, that he <em>will</em>, that he's <em>good</em>.</p><p>Awsten feels almost beside himself. They’re still on the fucking bus couch, the door is still unlocked, but Otto's hand is working him again, and he's helpless to do anything but take it. Helpless to <em>want</em> to do anything but take it. He's huffing out high, shaky breaths against Otto’s mouth, kisses turning sloppier. "Otto," he moans, arching up despite the twinge of oversensitivity. "Oh god, <em>Otto</em>."</p><p>He wants to touch too, to make Otto feel half as good as he's making Awsten feel, but the way Otto's holding him down with his whole body feels purposeful and Awsten just wants to please him, to obey.</p><p>Awsten's shaking, panting, mouth open to breathe as Otto kisses at the corner of his parted lips, jerking him at a steady pace. The deliberate slide of Otto's thumb over the devastatingly sensitive spot under the head makes Awsten's legs spasm on each pass, and he's teetering deliriously on the edge of <em>so good</em> and<em> too much</em>. He's beginning to wonder if it's even possible for him to come again, trying to shift further into Otto's touch despite his nerve endings going haywire.</p><p>Otto moves his mouth down from Awsten's lips to the hollow of his throat, kissing and sucking at the pulse point. It feels so good, a gentle counterweight to the nearly unbearable movement of his hand, warm and with just a hint of Otto’s teeth in the mix. </p><p>“Otto, fuuuck, Otto,” he whines, begging with his voice, with his body, with the desperate arch of his spine. He’s not sure if he’s pleading for <em>more</em> or for <em>mercy</em>.</p><p>Otto kisses below his Adam's apple. “That’s it. Good boy,” he says, voice dark and low.</p><p>Awsten's toes curl as he comes so hard he nearly bucks himself off the couch, intense almost to the point of agony.</p><p>His head shoves back into the cushions, his body locked bowstring-taut as he loses it, every muscle tensing like a rubber band about to snap. His brain is blank as he shakes apart under Otto, but the words <em>good boy</em> reverberate through his skull and he wants to sob with it. It feels like he comes forever even though it’s dry, nothing left to give. Frankly, his cock deserves a gold medal.</p><p>He feels floaty when he comes back to himself, slumping heavily into Otto’s embrace. Otto is rubbing at his arms, his shoulders, anywhere he can reach, pressing a kiss to Awsten’s temple. Despite his exhaustion, he wants to give Otto something back this time.</p><p>"Wait," he whispers, biting his swollen lower lip as he meets Otto's dark eyes. "I want to... I didn’t get to do anything for you." His words are failing him so he paws at Otto's jeans with numb fingers.</p><p>Otto sighs and drops his head against the cushions next to Awsten. He feels the tremor in Otto’s arms where they brush his own, muscles overexerted from holding himself up for so long.</p><p>“I don't think I can come again,” Otto muffles into the fabric, sounding vaguely embarrassed.</p><p>“That’s fine,” Awsten hurries to say. The hot prickle of shame is starting to lick up his neck. He didn’t even get a hand on Otto, and Otto got him off twice.</p><p>“But…” Otto turns his head halfway, one eye blinking at Awsten. “Next time?” he asks, sounding cautiously hopeful.</p><p>Next time. The words take a second to register, rolling around in Awsten’s head. <em>Next time</em>. Otto wants to do this again. With him. The sex, and hopefully, the kissing, too.</p><p>“Yeah! Yes, next time,” Awsten babbles, suddenly giddy. He readjusts himself and lays down next to Otto, who turns his head fully out of the cushion it’s buried in to face him.</p><p>Otto is grinning openly. “You’re cool with that?” He asks, eyes searching Awsten’s own.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, obviously,” Awsten says, mustering a little bravado. “If you think you’re gonna kiss me like that and just run off, well, Mr. Wood, you’ve got the wrong kind of girl,” he jokes, watching Otto’s reaction.</p><p>He knows he’s landed it when Otto breaks into an even bigger grin, laughing as Awsten pretends to twirl his too-short hair. “No, I’d never,” he chuckles, eyes warm and fond. “I’m not going anywhere at all.”</p><p>Awsten takes a second to appreciate the sight before him: the strong line of Otto’s jaw, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes from his smile, the amused tilt of his mouth. His heart feels like it’s expanded to take up his whole rib cage, pushing the air out of his lungs.</p><p>“Good,” he murmurs, reaching for Otto’s hand. Otto’s fingers wrap around his own, thumb stroking his palm.</p><p>“Good,” Otto echoes, leaning in to press a kiss to Awsten’s nose, making him giggle. “Very good.”</p><p>-END-</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.</p><p>If you want to talk about Awtto, I'm on <a href="https://randombubblegum.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>. Give me a shout and I'll buzz you in.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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